“ Instead of hating, my heart cries mercy! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! ”
During the prayers of the day, there was one less “amen”.
~ Phindiwe Nkosi
This book is written in a barren period of loss with an attempt to move forward towards substance.
Fear manifested itself as a physical presence that seemed to dominate the public sphere. Time almost stopped. Even without confirmation I could sense that something had gone terribly wrong.
I realized that whilst crying over the loss, the living did not seem adequate because they were not my loved one. The room full of strangers hurt me profusely. Even as I saw thousands of young people; I felt incomplete and more saddened because the one I wanted to see was buried.
